Static
by skybound2
Summary: "She wandered, a vagrant in a cracked utopia, a sliver of hope alive behind weary hazel eyes. She wished she could remember her name." Ficlet set in an unspecified near post-apocalyptic future. Warning: implications of character deaths.


**Title:** Static  
  
**Summary:** Set in an unspecified near post-apocalyptic future, use your imagination ;-)   
  
**Warnings:** Angst (the whole post-apocalypse thing just isn't a very cheery subject), implications of character deaths.  
  
**Rating:** Don't know, PG or PG-13 maybe *shrugs*  
  
**Disclaimer:** All hail Joss  
  
**Feedback:** Mmmm, delicious.

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Over time the rushing of dust in the atmosphere had slowed to a gentle whir, but never faded. Ever present the noise like static remained, lulling her to sleep each night with methodical caresses. 

There were shadows in the night, and in the day. All time seemed to blend together; one moment slowly rolling into the next, no real break in the monotony that held the fragile landscape together. The world would occasionally rock in displeasure at the pain of it all. A tiger pacing an unyielding cage. It refused to accept this confinement. It didn't like the way everything was now.

Simply static.

Her knees felt brittle as she lurched across the uneven ground, once tender feet now hardened over and calloused. She couldn't remember when she had last had shoes.

Still she wandered, a vagrant in a cracked utopia, a sliver of hope alive behind weary hazel eyes. 

She wished she could remember her name.

She would lay down to rest when her muscles would refuse to respond any longer to simple commands, and always, she would dream.

Dream of cotton against bare skin; smelling of lilacs and sunshine. Dream of a soft-eyed woman with gently curling hair, speaking to her with words she no longer could comprehend, but that made her feel safe and warm. 

There were nights when a marble man with piercing eyes would come to her, touch her in ways she longed to be touched. His voice alone sent ripples of something she vaguely remembered as being pleasure through her. Coating her in velvet.

Sometimes, she would dream of red. 

Those nights she always woke up screaming.

But, she always pressed on, searching for something other then decay. Believing that perhaps over the next ridge of twisted metal and bone, she would find what she longed for.

A tiny bit of peace.

She knew there was a time when she had that, long ago. 

Once she had come across a body, flesh mostly beaten from the bones, staring with wide empty sockets into the sky. Not so unusual in and of itself, but this one's hair was still partially attached, long and brown. The resemblance to someone she once knew, but could barely remember, sent shivers through her spine. But, the memory asserted itself regardless. Another girl had always been by her side, hair like spun silk. The girl was smaller then herself, but so much like her that the memory used to bring tears to her eyes.

She had long ago learned that water was a commodity not to be wasted.

Where had everyone gone? She wished she could remember. 

The passage before her triggered some instinct, and she found herself pushing her limbs beyond their limits; ignoring their tortured screams as she scaled the obstacles in front of her. Jagged pieces of metal tore at her flesh, leaving tiny trickles of blood flowing from her palms and calves. The pain was minimal though compared to the burning sensation behind her eyes telling her that she had found it; that soon she could rest.

She reached the top, only to lose her footing and tumble down.

When she came to, her eyes focused on the thin streaks of color dotting the sky. A dozen shades of black and blue and gray. She wondered if color was only something that existed in her dreams.

Carefully, she pulled herself up, her feet carrying her unconsciously the final few steps towards her destination. 

A shock of white metal drew her attention, and she dropped to her knees, pulling frantically to set the piece of metal free.

Green. She could see it, part of what she was uncovering was green. The color had been protected from the elements by the mounds of shrapnel heaped on top of it. She nearly choked on her own sob when she recognized the color, blood seeped from under her fingernails, painting the green red, as she ruthlessly yanked at the sharp edged material hiding her prize.

When she had finally succeeded, she began tracing the outline of the white on green, her broken mind searching for a way to make sense of what she was seeing.

Something clicked. Words. These were words. Hours seemed to pass as she stared at designs, willing herself to remember. When she did, the sound of her hysterical laughter drowned out the white noise of dust in the air. She clutched at her stomach the laughter boiling over to desperate sobs that wrenched at her heart. The sound nearly making the earth ache in sympathy, understanding all to well that she had discovered her own cage.

**'_WELCOME TO SUNNYDALE'                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     _**

She remembered now. 

And Buffy wished that she could forget.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

END 


End file.
